


All I Do Is Dream Of You

by rosewindow



Category: Singin' in the Rain (1952), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:16:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewindow/pseuds/rosewindow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison Argent and Derek Hale are the It Couple of the Hollywood silent cinema. Problems arise when the studio switches to sound.<br/>(AKA a Teen Wolf/Singin' in the Rain fusion)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Do Is Dream Of You

**Author's Note:**

> There's a supplemental youtube playlist here (http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLuijjHDKTLSBYwNsFU1gpfj9hO0mhxZNl&feature=mh_lolz) which includes songs and other things that are referenced in the fic.

“Guys, I know we said we weren’t going to use your respective super powers for evil and/or personal gain, but I may have gotten us a job.”

“Stiles, I've got a job,” Scott groaned, as he triple checked the lock on the door to the vet's office. “And so do you two.”

"Yeah, yeah. But this is in the movies! We could meet Anne Hathaway!"

"You know she's not actually Catwoman right?" Allison said, flicking him in the nose.

"Stop crushing my dreams."

Allison sighed. The battle was already lost, and they all knew it, so they might as well give in. "What's the job?"

\---

Hunter training was actually perfectly suited to being an action extra, Allison discovered. She was good at the physical stuff, and used to following orders precisely. Scott was doing even better. He could do flips that weren’t strictly speaking humanly possible, and even though he’d fallen wrong and injured himself a couple times, he just healed up and carried on without anyone noticing.

They were taking a break and chatting with the second unit director who was a friend of Stiles's. Allison never knew where Stiles met all these people, and thought that was probably for the best. Scott was telling some embarrassing story about Stiles and everyone was laughing.

Allison shook her head and sighed, "Idiots."

The director grinned at her, but then his face started to fall, and he opened his mouth to call out, and...

...

... Stiles is waiting on the red carpet for her when Allison arrives. She gets out of the car, waving and grinning at the screaming fans. She tries not to grimace when Derek steps out of the car and offers his arm.

“And here they are folks,” the entertainment reporter gushes. “The stars of this swashbuckling romance, Derek Hale and Allison Argent!”

The crowd goes wild. They make their way slowly up the red carpet to the reporter and Stiles.

“What a stunning couple these two make, folks. On and off the screen. Tell me, Allison, I hear rumors that wedding bells might be ringing soon.”

Allison shoots a desperate look at Stiles, who is barely keeping a straight face. “You hear all kinds of things on set,” Allison deflects with a smile. “Stiles here makes most of the noises.”

“Mr. Stilinski plays the piano to get Allison and Derek in the romantic mood, folks. Tell us how you two got started together. It must be a tale just as romantic as the movie we’re about to see.”

“You’re right,” Allison says, and the reporter swoons a little bit. “Stiles and I have been working together since we were little kids. We got started at the finest dance academy around.”

She catches a glimpse of Stiles’s smirk and knows that Stiles is picturing the cruddy little bar they’d been kicked out of multiple times when they were kids. “We then turned to our musical education.” A generous description of the seedy music hall where Stiles had discovered a knack for the piano and she had gotten passable with the violin. “Followed by time at a prestigious dramatics academy.” Allison still has a couple scars from their slapstick vaudeville routine, which had been less about any kind of craft and more about the fact that Allison had an extremely high pain tolerance. They’d finally settled on a mainly musical and dance sibling act, but with enough laughs to keep them popular with audiences. “Then we got stuck- er, arrived in Hollywood, and well, the rest is written in the history of the silver screen.”

“The screen we turn to now to see the latest masterpiece from Allison Argent and Derek Hale!”

Allison, Stiles, and Derek wave at the crowds again, and then they’re all moving into the theater for the premiere.

\---

They’re mobbed the second they leave the theater. Stiles manages to distract the fans long enough for Allison to tear herself free, and, with a grateful nod to Stiles, she bounds away over the hood of one car and into the passenger seat of another. The boy driving screams in surprise.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Allison yelps. “It’s okay! I won’t hurt you. Please don’t hurt me.”

“What are you doing in my car?”

“Escaping.”

“The police?”

“No. Some fans. I’m a movie star.”

He eyes her torn and rumpled dress skeptically.

“The fans,” she says sheepishly. “I’m Allison Argent. Maybe you’ve heard of me?”

He considers for a long moment. “Maybe. I don’t go to movies a lot.”

“Oh.” She watches the boy carefully. He’s rather adorable, with floppy dark hair and a pleasant face. It’s been a long time since she’s been able to talk to someone who wasn’t hyper aware of the fact of her fame. “Well, what do you do?”

“Oh, I’m an actor,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “On the stage, of course. I don’t have a lot of time for frivolous entertainment like the movies.”

“Oh yeah?” Allison asks.

“Well yes. Look. I can’t drive you around all night. I’ve got a party in Beverly Hills to get to. Where can I drop you off?”

“Oh.” Allison surprisingly doesn’t want to get out of the car. “Uh. My house is near there. You could drop me off so I can change clothes.”

He laughs. “That would be a good idea.”

A few minutes later, he stops at the end of her driveway.

“Maybe I could see you in a play sometime,” Allison offers, reluctant to get out of the car.

“Oh. I’m uh, between jobs right now.”

“Right. Well. Good luck.”

He pulls away quickly, and Allison waves forlornly as he vanishes. “I didn’t even get his name.”

\---

Allison is distracted at the party. She barely pays attention to R.F.’s demonstration of a talking picture, and the studio producer looks irritated by her lack of enthusiasm. No one else seems all that into it either, and someone calls for the real entertainment.

“Everything okay?” Stiles asks, coming over to her while they clear out the screen and set up for something else. “How’d you manage to get away?”

She tells him about the boy in the car and how she’ll probably never see him again, when a cake is wheeled out. A chorus girl pops out of it to loud cheers, and then a boy comes to help her out.

“Hey! It’s you!” Allison cries.

The boy looks up, and his eyes widen comically.

“I thought you were between jobs,” Allison says following him around the room as he hands out candies to the guests.

“Go away!” he hisses.

“Tell me your name,” she insists.

He sighs, and whispers, “Scott McCall,” before dashing away to perform. It’s a trite, little number, with a heavy focus on the chorus girls’ legs. Allison watches Scott. He’s a very good dancer, and his smile is bright and infectious. She tries to talk to him afterwards, but Derek demands her attention and Scott vanishes into the night.

\---

The upcoming Hale-Argent vehicle is a costume melodrama set just before the French Revolution. Allison is being cinched into a huge pink dress and massive wig. The only consolation she has is that she saw Derek's costume in the wardrobe building and he will be absolutely furious about the periwinkle silk.

Stiles pops his head into her trailer. "You ready to head to set- oh, I'm sorry. I was expecting Allison Argent, not this vision of loveliness. Tell me, gentle creature, have you seen my harpy of a best friend around?"

"I have a fan and I'm not afraid to use it, Stilinski," Allison threatens, as they head to set. "More importantly, I know your first name and I will tell people."

Stiles claps a hand to his heart. "You wouldn't. Allison. Allison, please, think of my children."

"You don't have any children."

"Only because you refuse to marry me."

Allison flicks his nose with her fan. "I'm afraid I love another, Stiles."

Stiles looks at her shrewdly. “That was three weeks ago, are you still thinking about him?”

“I can’t get him out of my head. There's just something about him."

Stiles shrugs. "I guess. I don't know, his jaw looked kind of uneven to me."

Allison sighs. "I just wish I could find him."

“Come on now, don't let this get you down. You're an actress. The show must go on!”

Stiles shoves her into a chair and flops down at a piano. He bangs away at it, pulling faces and cracking jokes as she giggles. “Just remember these words of wisdom: make ‘em laugh!”

Allison watches with delight as he cavorts around the studio, dodging props and builders, and weaving in and out of sets. He flirts with a dummy, which then beats him soundly in a fight. Stiles reaches the finale of his song. He punctuates each repetition of “make ‘em laugh” with a flip off the walls. Allison can see what’s going to happen before it does. Stiles runs at the last wall - a hastily tacked up paper flat - and goes crashing through. He staggers out, and with one final “make ‘em laugh,” collapses to the floor.

“Bravo!” Allison cheers, helping Stiles to his feet. “Just amazing.”

“Miss Argent,” one of the assistants calls. “They need you on set.”

She bustles over. The dress she’s wearing is heavy, but people do get out of her way. “I should wear one of these all the time,” she says over her shoulder to Stiles.

“I don’t know. It kind of makes your butt look big.”

She whacks him on the head with her fan.

“I heard you’ve been looking for that dancing boy,” Derek says, as the makeup artists do the final touch-ups.

“And?” Allison replies, adjusting her wig.

“Well you won’t find him. I told the studio guards to kick him out if he tries to come here again.”

“What? He was here?” Allison whirls on Derek.

“Places!” the director calls. “Stiles, mood music for the lovebirds.”

Stiles begins to play a love song as Allison and Derek take their places. The cameras roll. Derek comes over and kneels at her feet.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Allison asks, her face simpering as she looks at him with love in her eyes.

“He doesn’t belong here,” Derek says, kissing his way up her arm. “Hale and Argent are the big ticket names, not Argent and dancing boy.”

“I loathe you,” Allison whispers, her lips almost brushing his.

“Now kiss her, Derek!” the director calls. Derek presses close, and Allison puts her hands on his arms and kisses back as passionately as she can.

“Cut!”

Allison shoves Derek away from her. “You’re vile,” she spits.

“You couldn’t kiss me like that and not mean it even a tiny bit,” he insists.

“I’d rather kiss a tarantula,” she says, jabbing him with her fan for emphasis.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah right.”

“Yeah - hey Joe! Get me a tarantula!”

“Hold up everyone!” R.F. calls, entering the studio. “Stop rolling, we have a problem.”

“What is it?”

“ _The Jazz Singer_. Audiences are clamoring for more talking pictures. Look, I’d sooner cut off my last remaining testicle than cut my biggest stars, but we’ve got to do something. So _The Dueling Cavalier_ is now a talking picture.”

“But, but,” the director splutters. “We don’t know how to make a talking picture.”

“Just add words to what you’re already doing. It’ll be a smash. Hale and Argent: They talk!”

“Of course we talk,” Derek growls sourly.

Allison and Stiles share a look. This is not going to end well.

\---

Talking pictures take off in a big way. All over town there are sound stages being built and Quiet on Set signs being put up. Allison is looking for R.F. one day and finds him watching a musical number being filmed in one of the rental studios. Allison watches the technical people, trying to figure out the best way to film in sound.

As part of the finale of the number, a group of male dancers come out to join the chorus girls and Allison forgets all about talking pictures. Scott is there, swinging a girl around in perfect time to the music. Allison can’t stop watching him.

The director calls cut, and Allison catches Scott before he can vanish again.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Really?”

“I wanted to say, I could have been nicer that night at the party.”

“No, I mean yes,” Scott blushes and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Maybe, but I could have been nicer too.”

“I’ve thought about you a lot since that night,” Allison says, taking his hand.

“Oh. I uh, I thought you and Derek? That’s what the fan magazines say anyway. And you seem so happy together in your movies.”

Allison smiles. “You watch my movies.”

“Oh.” Scott blushes even more. “Just, just a couple of times each.”

Allison’s grin is getting too big for her face. She wants to kiss him so badly. "You are wonderful," she says.

Scott smiles lopsidedly at her. "Come here," he says, dragging her into the now empty studio and standing her on a ladder. He flips a lever and a sunset appears on the rear projection screen. He pulls another and turns on a mist machine, and another that turns on a bank of lights. “Add some moonlight,” he says, turning a soft spot light towards her. “And a soft breeze,” he finishes, turning on a fan. “You look lovely in the moonlight, Allison.”

She can feel herself blushing. “What is all this, Scott?” she asks.

Scott begins to sing. His voice is sweet and lovely, and his eyes never leave Allison’s. “Life was a song, you came along, I’ve laid awake the whole night through. If I ever dared to think you’d care, this is what I’d say to you.”

Allison descends the ladder to be closer to him, moving lightly, like she’s in a dream.

“You were meant for me,” Scott continues, “And I was meant for you.” He takes her hand and leads her onto the open floor to dance.

They move well together. Scott leads gently as they get used to each other. It’s a simple dance; sweet and light and gentle and easy. Allison feels a bit like she’s never danced before, like this is all new territory. Scott lifts her into a spin and then slowly lowers her down the line of his body.

He pulls away, shyly. Allison takes his hand and pulls him in again. She picks up the melody of the song. “But I’m content,” she sings to him, “The angels must have sent you, and they meant you just for me.”

\---

Talking pictures means changes. She and Derek have to learn how to play more towards a camera that can't move around with them as easily, and talk into mics, and frankly just talk. Derek's voice isn't the best for movies. The technicians have trouble picking it up, and when they do it's far too growly for the love-struck lordling he's supposed to be playing. The studio hires them both diction coaches. Derek's is a terrifying German woman named Erica who's constantly stalking the set and shouting vowels at Derek between takes. Allison is matched up with a much nicer man named Danny. Her vowels and consonants are alright on their own, so he has her running tongue twisters to perfect her screen voice.

They're practicing one afternoon, when Stiles appears. He's a welcome distraction.

Allison has years of practice keeping a straight face around Stiles’s antics. It’s tricky doing tongue-twisters at the same time, but Allison’s is managing. Danny, the diction coach, is running through a series of increasingly difficult tongue twisters. This one is based around the “ch” sound and there’s no way Allison is going to be able to remember it.

“Oh bravo! Bravo!” crows Stiles when Danny finishes. “Do another.”

Danny looks annoyed, but picks out another one. “Moses supposes his toses are roses, but Moses supposes erroneously. Moses he knowses his toeses aren’t roses, as Moses supposes his toeses to be.”

“That’s a good one,” Stiles laughs, yanking the book out of Danny’s hands. “Moses supposes,” he starts.

“His toeses are roses,” Allison continues.

“But Moses supposes.”

“Erroneously!” Allison finishes with a flourish.

They’ve worked up a sort of rhythm and Stiles runs with it. Allison picks it up too, and soon the two of them are cavorting around the room, singing loudly. Allison wraps a curtain around herself like a toga, and sings “Moses!” while Stiles sings the rest of the tongue twister in counterpoint.

They drag Danny back over to his desk and Stiles bangs the melody they’ve created out on it’s surface. Then he leaps on top of it, pulling her up as well. It’s like being back on the vaudeville stage, and while the life of a movie star is infinitely better than traveling all the time with vaudeville shows, Allison has missed the spontaneity. She and Stiles would go out on stage with only the loosest idea of what they might do. They would practice particularly difficult tricks, but they’ve been dancing partners for so long that they move together almost on instinct.

She looks over at Stiles and he’s grinning back and nodding, knowing just what she means. They jump off in unison and Stiles keeps going while Allison draws Danny up, pointing out Stiles’s incredible footwork. She pushes him into another chair and takes over. She goes all out, trying to one-up Stiles by pulling out her best tricks. He joins her again and they’re off, tap dancing around the office and grinning like fools. Allison hasn’t had this much fun in ages. They jump onto two of the chairs against the wall and Allison steps it up. Her feet are smaller and better suited for this sort of thing, but Stiles counters by jumping off and on the chair repeatedly and his legs are longer. She’d be laughing if she wasn’t dancing so fiercely.

They grab Danny again, sit him up on the desk, and start piling junk from around the office on top of him. Allison grabs one of his vowel signs from the wall and sets it in his lap while Stiles empties a wastepaper basket like it’s confetti. They finish with a final flourish of tapping and then grab the sign and sing out the letter A.

\---

 _The Dueling Cavalier_ finishes shooting and the studio arranges a preview. Allison sits between Derek and Stiles in the back row of the main house. Scott’s up in the balcony, waiting for her. The lights go down and the movie starts.

Allison knows immediately that it’s awful. They never worked out a decent system for mics, so the sound is too loud in parts and not loud enough in others and they pick up any and all stray noises from around the set. The lines are different spoken aloud than inserted as intertitles, and they’re honestly kind of cheesy. Allison is sinking lower and lower in her seat. Then the projector skips and suddenly the sound is off. Allison’s mouth moves on screen and Derek’s growling voice comes out. Then Derek looks like he’s speaking with her voice. The audience is roaring with laughter.

“I’m never going to work again,” she mutters to Stiles.

He pats her shoulder comfortingly, and then starts rubbing between her shoulder blades. It feels nice, so she’ll forgive him for the huge smirk on his face as he watches the train wreck onscreen.

\---

Allison sips glumly at a glass of milk as rain pours down outside her kitchen window. “What am I gonna do? This movie is awful!”

“Say ‘screw it’ and move to Argentina?” Stiles suggests.

“You’re horrible,” Scott laughs.

“You’re both horrible,” Allison groans. “It’s not your jobs on the line here.”

“You’re a good looking gal,” Stiles says. “You could easily get a job shining shoes.”

“Or selling pencils,” Scott chimes in.

“Or digging ditches. Worst comes to worst, you could go back to vaudeville.” Stiles demonstrates with a brief tap dance into a wall.

“I should have done that in _The Dueling Cavalier_ ,” Allison sighs.

“Hey!” Scott says brightly. “Why don’t you? You’ve got six weeks; just add some songs and dances and make the film into a musical.”

A smile spreads slowly across Allison’s face. “You know, that might just work. Scott, you’ve saved the movie!”

“It’s your lucky day, Allison! April 13.”

“Wait,” says Stiles. “Your lucky day is April 14. It’s after midnight. Good morning!”

“And what a lovely morning!” Scott laughs, gesturing out at the pouring rain.

“Good morning, good morning,” Allison sings.

“We’ve talked the whole night through,” Scott and Stiles reply, each of them taking one of her hands and leading her out to tap in the middle of the kitchen.

“Good morning, good morning to you.”

Scott takes a knee and tugs her down to perch on his thigh as Stiles sings, “When the band began to play, the sun was shining bright.”

Stiles pulls her over to him as he and Scott switch positions. “Now the milkman’s on his way, it’s too late to say goodnight.”

“So, good morning, good morning,” all three of them sing. “Sunbeams will soon shine through, good morning, good morning to you!”

They dance out of the kitchen and range all over the first floor of Allison’s house. She’s never had so much fun dancing. She knows Stiles; knows his goofy, rambunctious style. Scott’s style is sweeter, but stronger too. Dancing with both of them is absolutely magical.

Scott leads the charge on the couches. After doing somersaults over one, they run up the back of the other, knocking it to the ground. Laughing, they collapse back onto the overturned couch, shoulders bumping and thighs pressed together.

"Wait a minute," Stiles says gloomily after they’ve caught their breath. "We have a problem. Derek."

"Oh." The smiles fade off Scott and Allison's faces. "Derek."

"You're an evil genius, Stiles. How can we fix this?"

Stiles hops up and paces the room. "I've got it! Scott come here." He pulls Scott up and stands in front of him. "Now sing the song."

"Good morning, good morning!" Scott sings. As he does, Stiles moves his mouth along in time.

"Oh I see!" Allison cheers. "Scott can sing for Derek. Derek will act and move his mouth, but we'll put Scott's voice in instead. You're brilliant!"

She leaps up and squeezes Stiles tight. "My brilliant, brilliant boy. And Scott, this could be your big break. You do this picture, and we can get R.F. to get you a contract with the studio!" She's still in Stiles's arms, so she kisses him first, and then pulls away to kiss Scott.

\---

Scott is in a recording studio, singing the love song for the new musical. Allison sits at his feet, listening raptly. He has a beautiful voice. It lilts over the phrases and is filled with such love. His eyes are warm and locked with Allison’s and she knows that he’s singing for her.

Their plan works. Scott’s voice is substituted for Derek’s, and _The Dancing Cavalier_ is a huge success. They get a standing ovation on the night of the premiere. Allison and Derek take a few bows, and the curtain swooshes closed.

She meets Scott and Stiles in the wings, and Stiles pulls her in and kisses her cheek.

“It was wonderful,” Scott says, taking her hand and kissing her other cheek.

“You were wonderful,” she replies. “But no one knows it.”

“So tell them.”

They all look at Derek in surprise.

“What?” he shrugs. “Clearly I’m not going to be working in talking pictures. Go get your applause, Scott.”

Scott clasps Derek’s arm and grins. “Thank you.”

“Wait,” says Stiles. “I have an idea.” He explains, and they laugh.

“Genius, Stiles.”

Allison walks out to center stage, bringing a mic with her. “We thought we’d give you folks a little treat and sing the love song from the picture for you. Gentlemen,” she addresses the orchestra, “Would you play ‘You Were Meant for Me’?”

Everyone is muttering in confusion; the song starts with a male voice. She waves her hands at the orchestra to get on with it. Bemusedly, the conductor lifts his baton.

The music swells, the intro plays, and Allison opens her mouth to sing the words. Behind the curtain, Scott begins to sing his part.

The audience gasps in astonishment.

As Scott’s verse ends, the curtain is pulled aside, and he steps forward to join Allison as she begins her verse. They finish the song gazing into each other’s eyes.

The crowd goes wild.

Scott smiles down at her, and opens his mouth...

...

... “Allison! Allison!”

Allison blinked slowly back to consciousness. “Wha’ happened?” she slurred, rubbing the back of her head.

“A light swung loose and conked you on the head. You worried us, missy.” Stiles looked paler than normal, and Scott’s grip on Allison’s arm was tight.

Allison reached up and brushed his cheek. “Sorry. How long was I out?”

“Maybe a minute? Not even that. I did my-” Scott waggled his fingers at her. “Do you feel okay?”

“Weird. It felt longer. Yeah, I feel fine. I just had this crazy dream. You were there, and you.”

“What was it about?”  
“You know Singin’ in the Rain? It was that. I was the star, and you were my friend, and Scott, you were the singing girl.”

“You know, I always wondered if there was something between those three,” Stiles smirked.

“We kept bursting into song. It was weird. And at one point the dream got all acid trippy. I think I was dancing with Peter. And he was in this crazy lime green dress.”

“That is weird,” Scott smirked. “Peter wouldn’t be caught dead in lime green.”

\---

It was misting by the time the set doctors declared Allison to be probably not concussed and sent them home, and by the time they got off the bus it was pouring.

“Hey Allison,” Stiles said with a grin. “Watch this.”

He swung himself up on a lamppost and spun around it. “I’m singing in the rain!” he warbled. Badly.

Allison laughed.

Scott rolled his eyes. “At least do it right, idiot.”

He shoved Stiles off and hopped up himself. He swung himself around, one arm out, and belted, “I’m singing in the rain! Just singing in the rain!”

Stiles joined in, singing for real this time. “What a glorious feeling, I’m happy again!”

Allison had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming again. Although their lack of tap dancing skills was probably evidence enough that this was reality. Or what passed for reality for them. The three of them skipped down the road. Stiles and Scott were leaping into every puddle they came across, and splashing water everywhere.

“Boys. Are you out of your goddamn minds?”

Scott was in the middle of dipping Stiles, and would have dropped him if it weren’t for his werewolf reflexes.

“Uh,” said Stiles, looking wide-eyed and upside-down at the police officer.

“Good evening, officer,” Scott said sheepishly, pulling Stiles upright.

The officer shook his head. “Ma’am, are these boys with you?”

“Unfortunately,” said Allison, trying her hardest not to laugh.

“Get them home in one piece and without being a public nuisance, would you?”

“Right away, sir.”

He waved them away, and Allison took each of them by the hand and dragged them off. They turned down the street their apartment was on, and Stiles immediately swung up on another lamppost. “I have often walked down this street before,” he started singing.

“What are you doing?” Allison sighed.

“But the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before,” Stiles continued, ignoring her. “All at once am I several stories high, knowing I’m on the street where you live.” He hopped down on the last line and took Allison’s hands.

“That’s the wrong musical, you asshole,” Allison said fondly. The street light cast a golden light over them and the rain had dropped down to a gentle drizzle. Allison smiled, and pulled Stiles against her chest. Scott came and put his arms around both of them.

“This looks like the start of a beautiful friendship,” Stiles said with a smirk.

Allison laughed as Scott and Stiles leaned in to kiss her.

\---

**THE END**


End file.
